


Camelias

by KarenHardy



Series: Recce/Jack Stories and Drabbles [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Flowers, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarenHardy/pseuds/KarenHardy
Summary: Tumblr prompt - Person A always steals flowers from Person B. This time, Person B comes with Person A to make sure the person is flower thievery worthy, and Person A doesn't know how to explain that they're on their way to a graveyard.Don't like, don't read, don't hate, bitches.





	Camelias

**Author's Note:**

> This fucking DEPRESSED me when I wrote it. Read at your own risk, guys

Camellias. Jack’s been growing them in his front yard since he was little. His mother taught him how to care for them. It was a game they started, you see, when he’d been a little boy, to count them, and see how many there were. Some of them even had names. But when they started going missing, he was confused. What did who want with a handful of camellias?

It happened in sets of four. Always four. It went on for over a month before he finally caught her.

She had long dark hair and soft hazel eyes that were wide and startled when he touched her arm to gain her attention. He recognized her from the bakery in town, her name was Recce Winchester.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, handing him three already plucked camellias.

“It’s alright.” He assured her. “You’ll have to take me to see this guy, though.”

“What?” She looked at him, confused.

“If he’s worth stealing camellias for every month, he’s gotta be something special.”

“It’s not-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it a girl?”

“No, but-”

“Why don’t you just show me?” He urged, clearing the conflict by plucking one last camellia from the bush.

She nodded soundlessly and walked down the street, letting him follow. They turned the corner into-

“Do they work here?” Jack asked her.

She shook her head and it clicked in his mind. She wasn’t taking them for a lover. She walked the familiar path and placed one camelia in every pot. Three men and a woman.

“Your-”

“Family.” She replied. “My mom died in a fire when I was little. And I lost my brothers and father to a car accident last year. Your camelias were just so pretty. And dad always kept a vase of flowers around for mom. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where they were going.”

“It’s alright.”

They stood in silence, reverence, of those passed. Weeks would continue on, and on Friday evenings, Recce would walk by and pluck two camelias, and Jack the other two, and he would walk with her to the graveyard, to place them on the graves. Weeks would turn to months and months to years, and one day two more plots were added for the two of them. And their daughter, Mary, named for the grandmother whose memory sparked the first flower theft, would leave not one, or two, but six camelias.


End file.
